


Ringer

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo Fanfiction Fills 2016 [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Blood, Family, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Siblings, Strong Language, injuries, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s money, and they’re good at it, so why not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ringer

“You should have ducked.”  
  
“Goodness, you think?”  
  
Jacob’s voice had a nasal, clogged quality to it, and mixed with the sarcasm it almost made Evie giggle.  
  
The degree to which the other man had broken his nose was both fascinating and painful. Jacob had been in his fair share of scraps in his life, and had the scars to prove it; but this, hands down, was probably the worst broken nose he’d managed to receive in any fight thus far.  
  
The roars and cheers of the fight club were irritating to Evie, who preferred quiet, especially when in the process of determining whether or not her brother needed to see a doctor. She’d already had to knock his nose back into place, something she wouldn’t have done if Jacob had been complaining about how awful it felt.  
  
Judging from the sound he made when she actually popped it back into place, she doubted it felt any better than it had before.  
  
“Are you dizzy?”  
  
“Eh.”  
  
Evie shut her eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. “That’s not an answer, Jacob.”  
  
“What, shall I write you a novel?” Evie gave him a dark look, the sort their grandmother used to give them as children when they’d gotten into trouble. It did the trick. “A little. It’s not bad.”  
  
“Nauseous?”  
  
“I’ve got blood and Christ-knows what else dripping down the back of my throat, of course I’m nauseous.”  
  
“How badly does your head hurt?”  
  
“I seem to have forgotten everything from my life between the ages of seven and fourteen, if that answers your question.”  
  
Evie rubbed her eyes. Maybe Mr. Green would know someone that she could bring Jacob to, a doctor or nurse that definitively wasn’t in Crawford Starrick’s pocket.  
  
“Hello, hello! How goes it?”  
  
Robert Topping appeared- or rather, materialized, it really was a wonder how he snuck up on anyone with that ridiculous hat on his head- over Jacob’s shoulder, grinning at Evie in a way that was too suggestive to be innocent, but too innocent to be lecherous.  
  
Jacob tilted his head back. “Robbie! We-” He promptly started gagging, blood and mucous and other various substances falling to the back of his throat. After a moment of pained snorting and coughing, he finished in a rasp, “Evie’s playing nursemaid. Would you like to get on top of this?”  
  
Evie had been forced to endure all manners of painful jokes from Jacob regarding Topping’s last name and his apparent crush on her. Once upon a time, her brother had threatened to dismember any member of the opposite sex who looked at her funny- now he was laughing at them, and her too.  
  
Topping chuckled. “I take this to mean you won’t be returning to the ring tonight, my friend?”  
  
“Haven’t ruled it out.”  
  
“Of course not.”  
  
The twins spoke at the same time. Topping burst out laughing, as people often did when Jacob and Evie accidentally displayed their twin-ness.  
  
“Jacob, you aren’t going back in there,” Evie growled lowly. “You need to, at the very _least,_ lie down for a while. I’ll ask Mr. Green if he doesn’t know any doctors who might be able to get a look at your nose.”  
  
But Jacob was already getting to his feet, only a little wobbly. “We could use the money, Evie. Besides, I feel fine, really!”  
  
“That’s the spirit!” Topping applauded enthusiastically, and Evie cursed the day her reckless, punch-happy brother met a man who made his living off of reckless, punch-happy men.  
  
Jacob grinned, and the effect was gruesome with the remnants of smeared blood all over his face. “You only live once, Evie- didn’t one of your philosophers say that?”  
  
“I’m leaving if you go back in there. If you get concussed and die, I will leave your corpse to rot, I swear.”  
  
She was being hyperbolic, but the words burned as they left her mouth, because Evie was genuinely concerned that her brother would become hurt in this latest venture and the possibility of actually seeing the man who had been her constant companion since birth lying dead in the dirt was something that had haunted her dreams for years.  
  
But Jacob, as always, was irreverent. “Sure you will, sister. Sure you will.”  
  
And off to the arena he went, to the sound of deafening, heartfelt cheers and applause.  
  
Evie watched him go with her jaw set, eyes hard. She should leave, she really should; Evie picked up her coat and turned towards the exit. Jacob needed to learn the hard way that he couldn’t always rely on her to haul his sorry arse out of trouble. Maybe that would incline him to being a little more cautious in his endeavors.  
  
…Or maybe he’d just end up dead.  
  
Evie pinched the bridge of her blessedly unbroken nose and sighed.  
  
“God damn you, Jacob Frye,” She whispered.  
  
She turned around and returned to the sidelines, waiting to catch him when he fell, as always.  
  
-End


End file.
